


A Lesson of a Different Sort

by frumious_bandersnatch



Series: The Prime’s Apprentice [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Art, Drawing, Gen, M/M, Masterbation, jack’s a virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 05:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumious_bandersnatch/pseuds/frumious_bandersnatch
Summary: Alastair teaches Jack to embrace some of the finer parts of human existence.
Relationships: Jack/Alastair, Past Alastair/Dean Winchester - Relationship
Series: The Prime’s Apprentice [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530386
Kudos: 10





	A Lesson of a Different Sort

Jack frowned. “Like this?” He asked, adding another stroke of charcoal to the picture. “I don’t understand how this helps.” He tilted his head to the side and held up the intricate drawing of a forearm, skin flayed and butterfly-pinned to the side to reveal musculature and veins.

‘It helps. You must, mm, first understand anatomy. I’ve told you this before. You need to stop taking artistic licenses.’ Jack’s left hand took up the kneaded eraser and cleared a large swatch of muscle away. ‘It doesn’t contour like that, the veins are all wrong- again.’ The hand drew back, content to rest at Jack’s side. Jack huffed and tossed the charcoal pencil against the opposite wall. “I can’t do it!”

Dean walked in, frowning. “Hey, champ, what’s wrong?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes widening as he saw the drawing. “Woah, kid, that’s....that’s good art. Uh...” He swallowed thickly. “What gave you the idea to draw that?”

Jack looked down guiltily, before clearing his throat. “I like art. I wanted to learn anatomy better.”

Dean nodded slowly. He’d accept that answer, but deep down he knew something was wrong. “Don’t ever tell Sammy this, but I used to draw like that- here, lemme see if I can find any of my old stuff. I’ll be right back.” He walked out into the hall, into his bedroom. He pulled a box out from under his bed- it appeared in his motel room the day after Sam killed Alastair. He pulled the cover off and let out a slow, shaky breath as he removed a set of knives to reveal the stack of papers underneath. He went through them, from the most recent (pictures of souls on the racks, of hearts freshly removed from bodies, of lakes of blood and skies of fire, of the Cage buried so far in the depths of hell that only Alastair and a few select others had clearance to visit it. He pulled out the oldest sheets, of arms and legs and torsos, of muscles and veins and nerves, mapped out painstakingly accurately.

He held them under one arm and wiped a few tears he hadn’t felt form away from his eyes, steeling himself before exiting and walking back to Jack’s room.

Jack had gone back to drawing, brow furrowed. Dean sighed and sat down next to him. “Here- that’s not right. It’s good you knew to erase here. Look at mine-“ He took up a startlingly similar drawing and pointed at the middle section of the arm. “See this muscle? You pull it to flex your wrist, it’s called the flexor carpi radialis. If you cut it you won’t be able to move your hand. There’s some streaks of fat and connective tissue there, so you’ll want to include those. Go one muscle at a time, okay? Don’t try to do ‘em all at once.” Dean guided gently.

Alastair would have burst out laughing if it wouldn’t have blown his cover. Oh, that was his boy, alright. A little soft, round around the edges, but that was him.

“Thanks, Dean.” Jack smiled, eyes bright as he quickly finished his sketch. “This is already looking better. I’ll be trying to draw it again tomorrow. Thanks for helping.” He beamed.

Dean nodded and swallowed thickly. “Of course. No problem, Jack.” He stood up, stiff as a board, before strutting out militaristically. Some things never changed.

Jack set the drawing down and closed the door with a wave of his hand. “Show me more.” He said firmly. “Your memories.”

Alastair chuckled softly. “Mm, of course, my boy. Here, let’s see...” In Jack’s mind, the two of them appeared in an old-timey movie theatre, something from the first person perspective already playing on the screen as Alastair handed Jack an imaginary bag of popcorn. “Here I’m disciplining someone. Very different from my torture- here it’s to teach a lesson.”

Jack nodded slowly. “And who is it?”

“Oh, mm, just some crossroads demon. They’re not important.” Alastair waved him off, yawning. “That whip’d been soaked in salt water for an hour beforehand, see the smoke rising from the lashes?” He pointed out, other hand lethargically palming himself through his dress pants. Seeing Jack’s ever-present curiosity, he sighed. “Fergus McLeod, I believe. Chooses to go by Crowley.”

“Oh. He’s the king of hell. Or was, anyway.” Jack said nonchalantly, summoning a Snicker’s bar to his hand and humming. He looked down at Alastair. “...What are you doing?”

“Hm? Oh, this?” Alastair chuckled dryly. “Don’t tell me you don’t know, do you? You’ve never...?” He laughed softly. “Oh, mm, Jack, you’re so...innocent. It’s adorable.”

Jack frowned, blinking. “No I’m not. I just want to know what you’re doing.”

Alastair sighed. “Whacking off. Choking the chicken. Killing cats, shucking the corn, fist-kabobing, rubbing one out, take your pick.” He chuckled. “It’s called self-pleasure, or masturbating. You’ve never done it? What, you have the body of a teenager, you’ve never gotten the urge?”

Jack looked down. “No. I...It has gotten hard. But I just wait for it to stop and it’s fine.”

Alastair snorted. “I’m surprised you never walked in on Dean doing it. But, mm, no matter. Do you want me to teach you?”

“What? Oh...yes, I would like that.” Jack nodded eagerly, smiling. “...What do I do first?”

Alastair let out a long sigh. “Take off your clothes, to start.” He hummed as Jack willed his clothes away, leaving him as bare as the day he was born.“Oh, it’s a tiny little thing, isn’t it?”

Jack flushed. “It gets bigger.” He mumbled softly, biting his lip.

“What turns you on, then?” Alastair asked before frowning. “You probably don’t know. Let’s see...”

Jack perked up. “Oh- I know. It’s like what happens in the dreams before I wake up...hard?”

Alastair nodded slowly. “Mm, yes, that will do.”

“I feel like that when we’re done practicing, sometimes.” Jack licked his lips slightly. “When you’re guiding me, and you speak quietly...I can hear how much you like it.”

Alastair chuckled. “So that’s what you want, then? A, mm, lesson?” He breathed, lifting Jack up with ease and depositing him on his lap. “Where I can lean over just like this, and whisper naughty little things in your ear? What if Dean walks in, or Castiel, sees you lying down in bed, eyes closed as you stroke your hand just...like this?” He (with a now lubed hand) gently gripped Jack’s cock and gave one long, slow stroke upwards.

“Ah-“ Jack’s breath hitched. “Yes, I would- please-“

Alastair chuckled, setting an easy pace. “Please what?” He looked down and gave a soft ‘huh’. “So you really are a grower, hm? Color me impressed.” His own erection pressed against the cleft of Jack’s ass and the boy shuddered.

“Please-“ Jack arched his back, eyes fluttering shut. “Keep going, faster- move your h-and-“

Alastair did as requested, quickening his pace and giving his hand a soft twist as he ran a thumb over the head of Jack’s cock.

“I’m going to-“ Jack stuttered, fists clenched. He didn’t know quite what he was going to do, but it was certainly going to happen soon.

“Cum.” Alastair all but ordered, pace increasing tenfold before halting as Jack came in harsh spurts all over his chest. “Mm, good boy. Now go on back to the real world and clean yourself up. Just a wet cloth, should do the trick.” The place they were in faded, and Jack was left in the dark, until he opened his eyes, dazed and confused.


End file.
